


In The Circus Of The Mind

by Dragon_MoonX



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Canon Illustration, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Human!Nagini, Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald Spoilers, aurelini
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-04-29 21:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14481699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_MoonX/pseuds/Dragon_MoonX
Summary: The tragic performer, lost beneath the glare of the enchanted lights, forgotten and exploited like those who came before. He has no choice but to keep moving forward. Fortunately, he doesn't have to walk that path alone.





	1. Control

A gentle murmur of conversation filled the tent, their warm words and occasional laughter mingling with scrape of cutlery against plates. The noise was constant throughout the day, droning on and on like a splinter in Credence's mind. Listening to it made him anxious, a muscle twitching over his left eye as he sat with his head down, staring at the plate that had been placed in front of him.

He felt certain these people were talking about him, their hushed tones and staring eyes following him wherever he went.

Credence shook his head, trying to rid his mind of such thoughts. This was his home now. Surely they cared about him more than his previous family. And yet they still felt distant, separated from himself and his "condition", as he chose to call it. The only one who seemed to understand was the young lady seated next to him, her eyes moving from one face to the next, watching their lips move as they spoke and laughed.

He reached beneath the table and withdrew a length of wood from his pocket, his dinner forgotten as he turned the wand over in his hands. Having this meant that he was expected to exhibit some control over his magic. But control wasn't so easy. Not with the remnants of his Obscurus coiling in his chest, its dark tendrils writhing beneath his skin, threatening to escape. He didn't even realize that he was shaking.

This wand was freedom and repression all in one. It was sin and salvation enshrined within a singular structure, beautifully carved, ornately designed with a raised diamond pattern on the handle. And at its center was a star, a circle enclosing the symbol of his ancestry. There were nights he lay awake, running his fingers over the patterns and textures, incredulous that this was really happening, that he'd finally become part of the wizarding world.

And still the people chattered pleasantly and smiled. Sometimes it felt as though their voices were everywhere, each one making a mockery of the horror he'd become.

'They're laughing at me,' Credence thought, twitching and glancing at the people across from him.

He'd gone from being a freak, standing on the street corner handing out leaflets for his mother's church, to a circus freak performing for the general public. He knew what he was and that he deserved all that he got. And yet there was indignation and fury buried beneath a growing desire to silence them once and for all.

"Credence?"

A snarl formed on his lips, darkness seeping from his pores and clinging to the bench. It flowed effortlessly over the cracks in the wood, reminding him of how easy it was to let go.

"Credence, no," a frightened voice whispered. "Not here."

He had risen halfway from his seat when he realized that she was squeezing his arm, holding on in an attempt to keep him from lashing out at his fellow performers.

She told him that he wasn't the monster people paid to see, leaping and plunging and clinging to the fabric of the tent. Credence had difficulty believing that was true. And yet every time he looked at her, seeing that familiar blend of fear and affection, it was enough to pull him back, the gentle murmur of conversation resuming once he'd taken his seat.

"I'm sorry," Credence whispered, bowing his head as she snuggled up close, draping her arm around his shoulder. He was trembling, fearing that he might lose control, and for a moment he felt ashamed of himself for causing such a scene.

"It's alright," she gently murmured. "I don't think anyone really noticed."

'Of course not,' he thought sadly, glancing at them before looking back at her. 'No one ever notices me.'


	2. Understanding

He'd seen her picture before, but up until now he hadn't stopped to consider it, looking beyond the image on paper and seeing the person she was beneath her inhuman guise.

"Is that you?" asked Credence, his fingers tracing the outline of the serpent on the poster. His eyes widened as she bowed her head, a frown tugging on the corners of her lips. "It is you, isn't it? You're the woman on the tickets and posters, the one they're all paying to see."

"Yes, that's me," she whispered hoarsely, unable to look at him while speaking. She nodded once, glancing at the poster before lowering her gaze. "I'm their main attraction."

Credence took a step back, though not from fear of this cursed entity. He recognized the signs, the story of her misfortune mirroring his own. She was just as miserable, just as lost as he was, but he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to ease her pain.

She inhaled sharply, releasing her breath against his chest, and suddenly she realized that his arms were around her in an awkward embrace.

"Credence," she murmured, only to hear him gently shush her.

"I understand," he said simply, and it was enough.


	3. Sleep

Nights were longest when he was alone, the sights and sounds of the day replaying in his mind as he lie awake in bed.

He could still hear the music and see the shimmering orbs that drifted lazily above the parade. He'd been inside them at one point, seeing ripples of incandescent color reflecting off the surface as his fingertips pressed against the shining substance. But even worse were the bars that separated him from the audience.

He would see them when he closed his eyes, and at times he would dream of being in a cage, of grasping the iron bars and screaming but no one heard his cries. These terrifying images often merged with moments from his past, placing his adoptive mother in the center ring, lashing at him with his belt while the crowd cheered and laughed.

Was it really any better than the life he led before? Credence lost track of the number of times he'd asked himself this question. But then he felt her weight against his chest, smooth scales gliding across the warmth of his flesh, and he started to relax, the images fading as she slithered into his bed.

Her name fell from his lips, his voice low and groggy. Credence was past the point of exhaustion, his mind running in endless circles until he felt he would collapse from the strain of living like an animal in a cage.

He was already asleep when his body let go, becoming tangled wisps of blackened smoke that wove themselves around her coiled form.


	4. Restless

Credence slept, and for a while there was peace. Silence, as the creatures dozed in their cages, one magnificent beast lapping at its water dish before bedding down next to the other.

His amorphous form clung to the narrow bed he'd been given in the corner, the shadowy tendrils moving slowly against the torn bedsheets. He felt the warmth of her body, the pulse of her heart against his own, never fully awake and not deeply entwined in slumber. He felt energy stirring, becoming more aware of its presence as the hours slowly past, until he felt he would scream as magic flared in his chest.

He opened his eyes, looking out from within the shapeless mass, seeing her beside him in a sliver of moonlight. He reminded himself that, if nothing else, at least they had each other. It was his last thought before the darkness quivered and solidified, leaving him curled in a ball on the floor.

Credence looked at her, hugging his knees and silently weeping, hoping that she might be able to help. And slowly she awoke, her eyes finding him in the dark. She flicked her tongue at him, sensing his fear, but it would be a while before she was able to regain her human form.

The minutes that passed moved with agonizing slowness, until at last she was able to hold him, whispering soothing words of comfort as he trembled and wept.

"I can't," Credence mumbled, his voice dissolving into a wretched moan. "Why?"

"Why what, Credence?" she asked softly, cradling him in her arms.

"Why can't I sleep? I keep waking up around the same time every night. It's like something stirs inside of me not long after I go to bed. I don't even remember the last time I've had a decent night's sleep."

His confusion blossomed into anger, into hatred so deep he clenched his fists against it, shaking as the whites of his eyes engulfed the shades of brown that lie at their center. Credence hated himself for not knowing what was wrong, for being nothing more than some sideshow attraction in a circus full of freaks.

"It's alright." Her voice was gentle, quivering with a hint of fear. She held him close, never letting go, never backing away even when she felt he might crumble in her arms. "Just breathe, Credence. You'll be alright in a minute."

Tears cascaded down his cheeks. He thought he was going to be sick.

"I think I can help," she murmured, and Credence whimpered pitifully, not knowing but always hoping there was a way out.


	5. Comfort

She allowed him to lean on her, using her for support as he fought to contain his Obscurus. His human form, so unstable despite her efforts to keep him calm, was wreathed in shadow with undulating wisps rising from the surface of his skin. But she thought she could help. She said so herself, though it seemed difficult to believe. He wondered why she would even bother. He wasn't worth her time.

"You probably aren't going to believe me, but what you're experiencing is actually quite normal."

His breathing hitched, a low, shuddering gasp falling from his lips. "What?" He must have misheard her. There was nothing normal about what he was. He was freak, a human oddity put on display for all the world to see.

"No, it's true. Witches and wizards often have difficulty sleeping between three and four in the morning. Our magic is at its strongest during this time, which causes sleep disturbances and unusual dreams. An ordinary wizard will eventually learn to control their magic so that it doesn't bother them. But you..." She paused, looking deep into his eyes and seeing only minute traces of color. "You haven't learned how to control it yet. And with your condition it's bound to be twice as difficult."

The Obscurus twitched beneath his skin, memories resurfacing as he recalled seeing her serpentine form on the floor beside his bed. He wondered if this time of night effected her too, forcing her to transform when she lay down to sleep.

His thoughts turned from these puzzling questions as she reached up and brushed the hair out of his face, her affection startling him out of his reverie.

"You're suppressing it," she said, tilting her head and gazing at him in the moonlight. "You need to find a balance because suppression is not control, Credence."

"But you said this was normal?" Credence asked, sounding somewhat skeptical.

"That's right. It is perfectly normal." She took his hand in hers, feeling him tremble at her touch. "I want you to close your eyes, concentrate on your breathing and visualize the darkness that surrounds you. See it changing from grey to white until it vanishes completely."

"What if I lose control?"

"You won't." The faintest of smiles flitted across her lips. She had so much faith in him, and in a way she was asking him to believe in himself.

Credence swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. She told him to concentrate on his breathing, and yet he was more focused on the soft feel of her skin against his scarred hands. He worried that he wouldn't be able to control it, that he was nothing but a failure, a worthless wizard who probably didn't even belong in the magical world.

His muscles spasmed, causing him to squeeze her hand as he inhaled sharply. He closed his eyes, though only because he couldn't bare to look at her. He didn't want her to see him struggling like this.

The shadowy tendrils lengthened, though only for a moment before he slowed his breathing. Each time he inhaled he felt tension building, the tremors increasing in strength. He had to do this. If not for himself then for her, giving her some peace of mind and one less reason to worry about him.

He tried visualizing the Obscurus, seeing the swirling mass lightening at its core before shades of grey bled into its writhing limbs. With each breath the color began to fade, the tension lessoning until he was finally able to open his eyes.

"That's it," she said, her smile widening as she watched his Obscurus turn a dull shade of milky white before retreating into his body. "You're doing it, Credence."

Credence whispered her name, his eyes closing once more as he leaned into her touch. He felt ready to sleep where he was, his head resting on her shoulder as she glanced at the opening of the tent.

She could see that the moon had passed its highest point and was beginning its descent towards the horizon, letting her know that dawn wasn't far away. And in those final hours she held him close, letting him sleep beside her in the dark.


	6. Used

Credence was still asleep when the sun rose above the hilltops, bathing the earth in warm shades of amber and rose. If he could he would have laid there all morning, his arms around the massive snake, holding her close as though she were an oversized teddy bear. But at half past eight the ringmaster entered the tent, his face a mask of indifference as he approached the sleeping wizard.

"Credence." He knelt beside the young man, being careful not to startle the latest addition to his troupe. But when the Obscurial showed no signs of waking, Skender grit his teeth and dug his fingers into Credence's shoulder. "Wake up, boy! You're late for this morning's rehearsal."

The result was instantaneous, with Credence gasping and flattening himself against the side of the bed. "Ma, please, I'm sorry," he whimpered, cowering in the shadows like a frightened animal. "I promise I'll have Modesty up and ready for church in a minute." His eyes widened when he looked up and saw Skender looming over him.

Beside him, the snake hissed and glared at the ringmaster, her eyes glinting dangerously in the early morning sunlight.

"Shove off, Nagini," Skender snarled, motioning with a wave of his hand for the serpent to leave them be. "You'll get your turn later this evening, so you'd best save your strength for your performance." He looked back at Credence, who appeared to be on the verge of hyperventilating. "Easy there, lad. You don't want to lose it this close to show time."

Credence flinched when Skender gave him a pat on the shoulder. Just because he was inexperienced in the art of spellcasting didn't mean he was stupid. He heard what Skender told them, and though his mind was lost in a fearful, groggy haze, he was still able to comprehend the meaning of Skender's words.

'He doesn't care about us,' thought Credence. 'He doesn't care about her and he certainty doesn't care about me. All he cares about is how much money we bring in every night.'


	7. Collapse

It was with great effort that Credence managed to force himself off the ground, his vision blurring as the room dipped and spun before his eyes. The next thing he knew Skender had seized him around the waist, holding him upright as he slumped against the ringmaster.

"Credence?" The voice was distant, almost concerned.

The Obscurial mumbled something against Skender's coat, the words dribbling incoherently past his lips. He had been overcome by an immense weariness that had nothing to do with the short sleep he'd had during the last weeks, and was now struggling not to lose consciousness on the shoulder of his employer.

"Credence!" Louder this time, coupled with the sound of anxious hissing from somewhere to his left. "Are you alright? Say something, boy."

Credence nodded weakly, allowing himself to be led outside into the early morning sunlight. He soon became aware of lighthearted carnival music drifting from the adjacent tent, and he realized, much to his dismay, that his hair and clothing were wet with perspiration and sticking to his skin.

The music was getting louder, his mind a chaotic haze of sights and sounds as they approached the exhibition tent. He could still hear his mother yelling, the belt carving a path though his flesh as he bowed his head, shaking and muttering under his breath. Then all at once he felt a pair of hands, gripping his shoulders and shaking him.

"What is wrong with you?" Skender's voice was harsh, not unlike that of his adoptive mother.

Still trembling, Credence looked around and saw that they were inside the exhibition tent, his fellow performers standing off to the side, watching. How could he make them understand that it was everything, from haunted dreams to horrifying memories, shouting voices and this... this truly monstrous creature that was tearing him apart?

They didn't share in his affliction, his anger returning as he glared at each of them in turn. It was only the snake girl who understood what he was going through. When he was with her his mind settled. Things were quiet, things were simple. There was nothing but smoke and scales drifting in a plane of nonexistence. Out here the world was too complicated, and he was afraid. Terrified, but at the same time consumed with hatred.

He was startled out of his reverie when the hands that held him spun him around, shoving him towards a series of rings suspended in midair.

Credence stumbled forward, his heart beating frantically as the Obscurus clawed at his insides.

He knew the routine well by now: leap up like a trained animal, grasping the first ring and swinging to the next. Once he gained enough momentum, he was to let go in midair, changing into his Obscurus form and soaring through the center rings before changing back and catching the last ring. This was to be done in time to music, and for added effect Skender would light the middle rings on fire for the audience's amusement.

He was still a moment, black wisps rising and swirling about his lean form. He felt lightheaded and he wanted to faint. To just collapse and allow his Obscurus to consume his very being. And if he fell from the rings in the process, if he gave himself a concussion on the dry, dusty earth, so what? At least he would be out of this for a while.

Credence took a running leap and felt his fingers close around the first ring. There was a sudden flash, a memory of his mother raising her fist, and Credence gasped, feeling a sharp pain surging through his palms. It was enough to make him lose his grip, his legs flailing pathetically as one hand slid from the metal ring.

"Dammit, Credence!" A whip cracked, the sound splitting the air. "Pay attention!"

A moan slithered past his lips, eyes widening as the Obscurial glanced the ringmaster swinging his whip. There was another crack, and this time Credence managed to grasp the ring with both hands, hoisting himself up and reaching for the second ring.

Credence grabbed the third ring, then the fourth, adrenaline surging through his veins. He couldn't stop. Stopping meant pain and punishment for his mistakes. Though by now his palms were slick with sweat, heat spreading throughout his body like wildfire.

He was nearing the center rings when a howl of agony erupted from the seething mass that spread to consume his body. This sickly, feral cry quickly rose in volume only to die moments later when he struck the ground, solidifying and lying on his side in the dirt.


	8. Illness

When the darkness retreated, Credence found himself lying on the ground at Skender's feet. The music had stopped, its cheerful tune replaced by curses and shouting as the ringmaster raised his fist, threatening to bring the whip down across Credence's exposed face and hands.

The Obscurial whimpered and curled in on himself, hot tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Any minute now he would feel the whip across his flesh, slicing him open and allowing rivulets of blood to soak into the fabric of his clothes. It wouldn't be the first time someone had punished him for his mistakes, but it would be the first time he was beaten for his inability to perform magic.

And then she came, no longer in her serpentine form and running across the tent. Her fear dissolved when she confronted the ringmaster, placing herself between him and the Obscurial.

"Leave him alone! Can't you see that he's not feeling well?" She glanced at him over her shoulder, seeing Credence moaning and twitching on the ground. "He needs to rest, otherwise he won't be able to perform tonight."

"You disgusting little worm!" Skender shouted, eliciting a sharp cry as he curled his whip around her thigh. "This is my show, and if you're not going to behave I'll throw you in a cage with the rest of the animals!"

His words had little effect on her. Her eyes, glaring and defiant, never left his face, until finally he lowered his whip and took a step back.

"He has until six this evening," said Skender, a vile sneer twisting his lips. "And make sure he gets here on time." He then watched as she knelt beside the Obscurial.

Credence initially drew back, as if in alarm, then allowed himself to be hugged. After a moment he even put his head on her shoulder and hugged back, still frightened and trembling. "I-I'm s-sorry," he stammered. "D-didn't mean to..."

"Shh, it's alright now," she said, keeping her tone gentle so as not to upset him. When he opened his eyes, she saw that they had turned milky white like the snows of winter. "Come on. We need to get you out of here."

Credence leaned into her touch and allowed her to help him to his feet. He'd slept poorly for the last several weeks, and what sleep he'd managed was haunted by nightmares of his adoptive mother. Now everything had come down on him like a lead weight, his condition worsened to the point where he could barely stand as she led him away from the exhibition tent.

He returned to their room in the adjacent tent and collapsed into bed, muttering incoherently as a damp washcloth was draped across his forehead. His eyes closed, and although it felt like a moment or two before he opened them again, it must have been hours because the light was fading from the sky.

"Credence," a voice said, speaking softly to her ailing friend. His eyes rolled towards the sound of her voice, relief spreading across her face when he looked at her. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," he murmured. He could smell a warm, salty aroma coming from somewhere on his left, and realized at once that she must have made him something to eat. "I thought I was getting better... Haven't had a blackout in over a week."

"It's not your fault," she said, lifting a spoon and bringing it to his lips. "You're exhausted. He should have known better than to push you when you aren't feeling well."

He allowed her to spoonfeed him some plain broth, though he really didn't want any. These days he had little to no appetite, but he knew she would worry about him if he didn't at least try to eat something.

"I'm always exhausted. I could probably sleep for a month and it wouldn't make a difference." A pause, his friend stopping to refresh the cloth on his forehead. "There's no cure for what I am, is there?"

"Not that I know of," she replied.

He gazed up at her through blurry eyes, still glazed like he was fighting a case of the flu, and mumbled, "And you?"

She shook her head. "No. There is nothing I can do. One day I'll transform and be unable to change back. Until then I'm going to live my life to the fullest. Even if this," she indicated with a wave of her hand the striped canvas and dusty floor, "is all life has to offer. But no matter what happens, I will always be here for you, Credence."


	9. Performance

Credence forced himself out of bed an hour before he was scheduled to perform, keeping his head down as he moved amongst the crowd. He was continuously ignored by his fellow performers, jostled this way and that, pushed aside and forgotten. And right now that was fine.

He wanted to be forgotten. He wanted to disappear, to reach beyond the clouds and never come back down. But tonight there was no escaping his fate.

He stood in the shadows, shaking with anticipation as he awaited his turn in the center ring. He despised his job, and yet he would continue putting on a show day after day, night after night, all while hating the people who surrounded him. Because he had to be that person on stage. He had to face the crowd beneath the glare of the enchanted lights because there was nothing else left. Nothing else that he could become.

And then he saw her, that terrified young lady behind iron bars. The lights were dimmed, the ringmaster came forward, and once more Skender began his famous speech.

"Wait, how could this ever come to be? The most bizarre affliction of all time. What begins as a lovely girl will now transform into an ugly snake. She has traveled throughout the world telling her strange story to thousands of people. This is a must for the entire family. Never have you see anything so strange."

The spotlight shone at the center of the cage, fear shining in her eyes as she backed against the bars, trembling and sliding down until she was sitting on the floor.

Credence knew how much she hated this. She feared that her next transformation would be her last, leaving her trapped in a serpentine body. But did Skender care that she might get stuck that way? Did he care that Credence's health was deteriorating, and that the Obscurial might collapse and die during his next performance? No, certainly not. Because he could always go out and find himself a new batch of freaks to replace the ones he'd lost.

Skender approached the cage, leering at the woman in the corner. In his hand he held a bullhook, the iron rod clasped tightly in his fingers. A wicked cackle escaped his lips. He was enjoying this, and Credence knew it, watching from a distance as the ringmaster prodded her through the bars.

The Maledictus cried out, backing further into the corner. She cringed as the bullhook struck the side of the cage, the noise reverberating off the cold surface. Already she was beginning to change, her pulse pounding frantically against her ribs, rage building as he jabbed at her again, this time in the side above her right hip.

A fierce hissing noise rose above the music, and Credence stepped back, watching as the massive snake launched herself through the air, striking the bars and eliciting a sudden gasp from the audience.

The Obscurial hung his head, tendrils of blackened smoke encircling his limbs. He'd spent so many years wishing he could join the magical world, not knowing that the world he left behind was just as cruel as the realm he'd entered.


	10. Freedom

"You don't have to go back, Credence," she said softly, sitting beside him as the moon crested the hilltop. "We don't have to go back."

She had seen the way he looked at her after the audience had gone home, a mixture of terrible rage and hatred causing him to shake from head to toe. And yet his eyes spoke in such an opposing manner, revealing his vulnerability, begging for an escape from this hell. She knew right then and there that they had to leave, even if it was just for one night.

Taking him by the hand, they fled into the city, her steps faltering as her body began to change. They were able to make it into a deserted alley when her ankles fused together, smooth scales rapidly spreading from the tips of her toes to her lower legs, and suddenly she fell forward, the Obscurial seizing her around the waist to keep her from hitting the ground.

He held her for a moment before she transformed in his arms, forcing him to let go, her weight too much for a single man to carry.

Terrified, Credence pressed his back against the wall, head turning as he looked towards the street, praying that no one saw them. It was just another reminder that they were unfit to live alongside normal human beings. And if they couldn't exist amongst magical and nonmagical people, where could they go? Was there even a place for them?

Her body thrashed against the earth, twisting and writhing as she was forced into a second transformation. Within seconds she had reverted back to her human form, her chest heaving as she lay in a heap on her side.

"Credence," she whispered breathlessly, lifting a trembling hand off the ground. He knelt beside her and felt the warmth of her fingers against his cheek. "Hold on, Credence," she told him, grasping his wrist and Apparating onto the rooftop of the nearest building.

The world around them faded in an instant, only to reappear moments later as their feet made contact with the wooden surface.

Credence stumbled forward, still unused to this strange mode of transportation. He preferred flying under his own power, but he didn't trust himself not to lose control and demolish the city in the process.

Beside him, his companion gasped, clutching her chest and sitting down heavily on the roof. "I really don't like it when that happens," she said between labored breaths. She swallowed hard, then turned to look at him. "Are you alright now, Credence?"

Was there ever a time when he was alright? No, he didn't think so. But he did feel better out here in the fresh air, away from the noise and smell of the circus. So he nodded, still somewhat unsure of himself. He hadn't been outside like this since Mary Lou passed away, a thought which made him quake with fear, head bowed as he sank to the ground beside her.

Credence hugged his legs and rested the side of his head on his knees, facing away from her. He'd forgotten how big the world was, and for the next several minutes he did nothing but stare at the neighboring buildings, feeling very much like a lost child who had wandered away from his mother.

Silence stretched between them, the rising winds catching strands of hair and ruffling them against his scalp. His mind began to wander, thinking back on everything he'd been through during the past few months. There was always someone there who used him, seeking to manipulate and control, never caring for his well being or seeing him for the person he was beneath the swirling mask of darkness.

"They said I am a miracle," he murmured, his voice no more than a whisper in the dark. "But can someone be a miracle and a mistake at the same time?"

The Maledictus moved closer, her brow furrowed with concern. "Please don't say that. I know there are times when you feel like you don't belong, like everything is wrong and there's nothing you can do to make it better." Her gaze drifted towards the ground, sadness creeping into her voice as she continued speaking. "Believe me, I've been there. I understand. I don't even know where we are right now, or where we'll go from here. But it doesn't matter. As long as I'm with you, I'll be alright." She leaned against the Obscurial, her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. "We'll be alright," she whispered, as if trying to convince herself that this was the truth. "Somehow we'll get through this."

He was still a moment longer, watching as the skies gradually lightened. Shades of gold and crimson replaced the darkened hues that spread across the horizon, and when he looked over at her he saw that she was smiling, comforted by the light and his presence.

Slowly, she got to her feet and walked towards the edge of the roof, hair and dress fluttering on the wind. If they left, they would have the freedom to experience moments like this whenever they wanted, rising to face the dawn in a world of magic and opportunity. Credence knew it wouldn't be easy, but at this point anything was better than that carnival of forgotten and exploited misfits.

He lifted his head, watching the silhouette of her body move against the circle of the sun. It was time to move on, away from the horrors of their past and on into a brighter reality. One where they could hopefully find their place in the wizarding world, somewhere their talents would be appreciated.


End file.
